


Three Times Makes It Official

by FindMeAfterward



Series: A Few Hours [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Draco Malfoy, Arguing, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Dialogue Heavy, Dirty Talk, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Draco pov, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Makeup Sex, Malfoy drama, Mutual Masturbation, Resolved Argument, Romantic Fluff, Smut, Top Harry Potter, discussing fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29873130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindMeAfterward/pseuds/FindMeAfterward
Summary: How long does it take for the infatuation phase of a relationship to expire and for reality to set in again? In Harry and Draco’s case, about three weeks. After deciding to break the news of their relationship to their families, the boys are beginning to see that being in love doesn’t make things easy; sometimes it does nothing but fuck things up.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: A Few Hours [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171772
Comments: 25
Kudos: 133





	Three Times Makes It Official

**Author's Note:**

> Hey again! This is the third and final instalment in this series! :) I feel like this part can be read as a standalone story, so if you’re not feeling like you want to read the first two, I think you can still enjoy this one on its own with minimal head-scratching. (Also, welcome to the series!)
> 
> I can’t tell you what a joy it’s been to write these stories, and I’m beyond thrilled that you've chosen to share in that joy with me. The love and support that circulates through this community continuously melts my cold, dead heart. 
> 
> As always, any feedback and comments are immensely appreciated! I am so thankful to you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this series as much as I’ve loved writing it! :)

THREE WEEKS LATER

“Hey, wake up.” 

Draco felt the warm breath of Harry’s whisper against the back of his neck and grunted in response. 

“Draco,” Harry said a little bit louder, and his fingers wiggled against Draco’s stomach. 

“Tickles,” Draco muttered. “Stop.”

Harry laughed softly in his ear. “We fell asleep again.”

“What time is it?” Draco asked, reaching his arm down and lacing his fingers between Harry’s. He slowly opened his eyes and peered out his window at a dusty blue sky. 

“About a quarter to four,” Harry mumbled into his neck from behind him. 

“AM? PM? What year is this?”

Harry chuckled. “PM, you unbelievable drama queen.”

“Weren’t we sucking each other off just now?” Draco asked, smiling as he scooted back tight against Harry’s toasty warm chest. “Did we fall asleep?”

“We absolutely sucked each other off,” Harry answered cheerfully, squeezing him. “And then you rolled over, pulled my arm over top of you before I even finished swallowing, muttered something about my excessive sweatiness, and promptly passed out. For nearly an hour.”

“Sorry, I suppose you wore me out,” Draco said through his smile. “One of these weekends I’ll truly shock you and manage to stay awake the entire time.”

“I hope not,” Harry replied. “You’re pretty when you sleep.”

“Merlin, you’re such a stalker.”

“Get used to it, Malfoy,” Harry muttered.

“Did you sleep as well?” Draco asked, closing his eyes again and burrowing even further backwards, as close as he could get to Harry.

“Yeah, on and off,” Harry answered. “I guess you’re not the only one who was worn out.”

Harry kissed his bare shoulder and then Draco felt the bed shift, and all of Harry’s warm weight was suddenly gone. Draco whined a little in protest, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder to cover the sudden chill of Harry’s absence.

“Isn’t it Saturday?” Draco mumbled. 

“All day,” Harry said. “But I need to get going in a bit, I have to go home and do some tidying before I pick up Teddy at five. He’s staying over at mine tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right, I’d forgotten,” Draco said, shifting lazily onto his back and leaning up on his elbows with a yawn. “It’s a good thing you woke up when you did.”

Harry had already pulled on the pair of navy blue boxer shorts that Draco vividly remembered tossing onto the bed post at some point in the last few hours, and he was now turning in circles in an attempt to spot the rest of his clothing. 

“Hallway, remember?” Draco muttered with a smirk. 

“Oh, right.” Harry smiled back, picking up a sock from off the floor. “Think we’ll ever manage to be fully clothed in your bedroom then?”

“I sincerely hope we never become so boringly domesticated as that, Potter,” Draco said, lying back down and folding his hands behind his head. 

Harry grinned and moved back over to the bed, leaning down to kiss Draco. 

“Hi,” Harry muttered against his lips.

“Good afternoon,” Draco grumbled between kisses, roping his arms around Harry’s neck and twirling his tongue seductively in Harry’s mouth. Draco lifted his hips up and rubbed his body against him; really, Harry was so close and so thoroughly delicious that it would’ve been a crime not to do so.

“No,” Harry murmured, pulling away. “No, no, no.”

He nudged Draco back down against the mattress and moved out of reach. Draco gave a protesting mewl once again, pouting at him. 

“Stop looking so cute,” Harry said, grinning. “I can’t stay.”

Draco sighed. “I know.”

“You know you can come,” Harry said, turning and walking out the bedroom door before Draco could answer.

“Yes, I know.” He wasn’t sure if Harry had heard him.

“My jeans are in the bathroom,” Harry called a moment later. “How did that happen?”

“You kicked them off of you and they flew in there,” Draco replied, smirking again. “Do I really have to remind you that they got stuck on your ankle, which then led to you cursing at them to, and I quote, ‘go fucking die in a hole’? It was truly a marvellous and graceful display of your staggering athleticism.” 

“Reckon I’ve been displaying my staggering athleticism for about three weeks now,” Harry quipped with a grin, poking his head through the bedroom door as he shimmied his jeans on. 

“I’ve often wondered how on earth you can presume to call me the arrogant one, Potter.” Draco smiled. 

“Ah, let’s be honest, we’re both egotistical pricks,” Harry said, shrugging. 

Draco laughed, finally sitting up in the bed. 

“Has it really been three weeks already?” he asked, crossing his legs into a pretzel and dragging the blanket up to his chin and over his shoulders. 

Harry leaned against the doorframe and gave Draco one of his loving looks as he pulled the button of his jeans closed. Draco gazed upon his hairy chest, his slightly crooked glasses, and his dishevelled black hair, and wondered if anyone else in the world fell in love like this. 

“Three weeks as of last night,” Harry said softly, his head tilting to the side. “Any complaints so far, Malfoy?”

“You ask a loaded question, Potter,” Draco teased.

“You like loaded questions, they keep you sharp,” Harry said with a wink. “Hold on, let me go find my wand. And my shirt.”

“Must you?”

Harry grinned and disappeared from the doorway, presumably continuing his hunt for clothing down the hall and into the sitting room. Draco sighed serenely and slid back down onto his back. He could scarcely believe that he’d been riding a wave of pure bliss for three whole weeks, but here he was. He inhaled deeply; he could smell Harry all around him. 

Harry was pulling on his long-sleeved red t-shirt as he walked back into Draco’s bedroom a minute later. 

“So? Complaints? Thoughts? Regrets?” he asked as he flopped onto his stomach in the bed beside Draco.

“Are you looking to be graded?” Draco trailed his fingers along Harry’s toned bicep and then attempted to smooth out a wrinkle in the back of Harry’s shirt.

“No,” Harry muttered into the pillow. “Maybe just a general report card.”

“I regret that we didn’t start boffing back in sixth year,” Draco snorted, only partially joking. 

“Mmm, yeah, I second that one.” Harry shifted and curled up against him, flinging his arm around Draco’s waist and his leg over top both of Draco’s. Draco adored it when he was draped in Harry. “Anything else?”

“You snore.”

“You told me you like that,” Harry protested. 

“Yes, well,” Draco said. “A general report card must include positive comments as well as complaints, no? And I have several positive comments about you, Harry, one of which is that you snore. And yes, I do like it.”

Harry snorted. “My sappiness is rubbing off on you, Malfoy.”

“I like when you rub off on me, Potter,” Draco said cheekily. “Especially when I’ve first woken up.”

He felt Harry shimmy in closer. “What else?”

“No complaints, no regrets,” Draco pondered aloud, placing a hand on Harry’s back. “Though I do sort of lament the fact that I haven’t had your cock in my arse yet.”

Draco was only partially surprised that he’d spoken the crude thought from his mind; being honest with Harry was almost second nature to him by now. 

Harry looked up at him, his eyebrows raised in astonishment. “I’m ready when you are, love.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not in any rush. This relationship has happened fast enough as it is, Potter. Let me retain a semblance of control, at least in this aspect.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry held his arms up over his head in a gesture of surrender, which lost its effect, given the angle he was lying at. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

“You asked for my thoughts,” Draco grumbled. “Those are my thoughts.”

“Well I kind of regret you not putting _your_ cock in _my_ arse too, Malfoy.” Draco looked down at him in shock, and Harry was grinning back like a child. 

“Are you being serious?” Draco asked suspiciously.

“Very,” he replied with a nod.

“To be honest, I didn’t even consider that you might want it that way,” Draco said truthfully. 

“I want it that way,” Harry said. “Like the Backstreet Boys.”

“Who?”

“You’re bloody joking,” Harry scoffed.

Draco smiled. “Yes I am.”

Harry laughed. “Prat.”

“You really want to… I mean, you’d try it like that?” He could feel himself blushing.

“Of course,” Harry replied, smiling. “I want to try everything with you.”

Draco bit his lip. Harry reached his hand up and clumsily brushed a lock of hair away from Draco’s face.

“When you’re ready,” Harry said gently. “I can wait. For all of it. Anything for you, Draco.”

Draco often felt mystified at the fact that someone as wonderful as Harry could ever deign to give him the time of day, but he dare not point it out, lest Harry finally see reason and agree with him. 

As usual, Draco was trying to think of something suitable to say, and as usual, Harry beat him to the punch.

“Hey, maybe if I’d been sorted into Slytherin and we had shared a dorm, we would’ve been wank mates,” Harry said with a laugh. 

Draco snorted. “I have no doubt that we would have been.”

“It’s kind of a fantasy of mine to walk in on you jerking off, actually,” Harry said.

“You’re such a pervert, Potter,” Draco said, his face flushing with pleasure, and he was suddenly dying to ask what else Potter fantasized about.

“Why do you always smell so good?” Harry muttered into his chest, before Draco could probe further. 

“Because I actually showered this morning,” Draco answered pompously, “unlike a certain brute who shall remain nameless.”

“I was too lazy,” Harry muttered. “And you looked too good. I didn’t want to stop looking at you for a whole ten minutes.”

Draco smiled to himself. What a completely sappy, ridiculous, perfect man he had fallen in love with.

“Would you like me to see you off at our spot again?” Draco asked him softly.

When the time had finally come for Harry to head home after spending that memorable first weekend at Draco’s house, Harry had (only somewhat) facetiously insisted that Draco accompany him to the garden in his backyard to bid him farewell and kiss him goodbye beside the flowering rose bush before he disapparated. 

Draco had teased Harry mercilessly about this request until Harry had explained, with a rather alluring blush, that he’d always daydreamed about being a character in a Jane Austen novel and courting his beloved in a romantic garden just like Draco’s. Draco hadn’t been able to deny Harry once he had heard that adorable admission, and from then on, it became a weekly custom of theirs for Harry to disapparate from the garden.

“Of course you need to see me off there, it’s tradition,” Harry said, as if it was obvious. 

“Is it?” Draco knew it was, but he just wanted to keep listening to Harry speak.

“Well you’ve done it three times already,” Harry said. “Doing anything three times makes it official.” 

“Is this a rule I don’t know about?” Draco asked, combing his fingers through Harry’s messy hair. 

“It’s a rule your boyfriend just made up.” 

“Something tells me my boyfriend makes things up to impress me sometimes,” Draco said.

“Such a smart man my boyfriend is.” Draco could hear the smile in his voice.

“Very well,” Draco sighed dramatically. “I shall see you off at the rose bush, as per tradition.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with me tonight?” Harry asked gently.

“We talked about this, Harry,” Draco replied patiently. 

He sighed. “I know. But I want to see how charming you are with a three year old.”

“I can’t say that I've ever been in the same room as a three year old,” Draco admitted. “The children I work with at the school are all at least nine years of age. I’d hardly know what to say to a three year old, and I’m sure I would bore him entirely.”

“Is that why you don’t want to come over tonight?”

“No,” Draco said. “It’s like I told you yesterday, I don’t want to spend any time with you around anyone else, even young Edward, until I’ve told my mother about us. Things have a way of getting back to her.”

Harry sighed again. “I get it.”

“Are you sure?” Draco teased. “Because you’ve asked me about a dozen times to come with you.”

“I can’t help it,” Harry muttered. “As obsessed as I am with Teddy, weekends are the only time you and I spend together. And now I’m missing a full day of Draco time.”

Draco could hear the pout in Harry’s voice.

When they’d first gotten together, they had both quickly realized that between Draco’s long, draining shifts at the school and Harry’s somewhat unpredictable Auror schedule, it was the most sensible option to only see each other at the weekends, which, fortunately, they both consistently had off. 

But if Draco was being perfectly honest with himself, he had limited their time together out of a niggling fear that Harry would grow tired of him once he had an overconsumption of Malfoy. Draco was painfully aware that he was a lot to take on, even for the Boy Who Lived.

“Draco time, how adorable are you?” Draco chuckled, ignoring his ever-present self-loathing as well as he could. 

“Very adorable,” Harry murmured into his chest. “And I’m even more adorable around kids.”

“You know I believe that, Potter,” Draco said with a smile. “And I’ll see it someday. But not today.”

“Tomorrow?”

Draco laughed. “I thought you had to leave.”

“I do.” Harry sat up and lifted Draco up with him. “Come and see me off.”

“Shall I just go into the garden naked then?” Draco asked, shifting out of the bed with Harry.

“You should always be naked, Malfoy,” Harry replied, eyes raking salaciously over Draco’s body as they both stood. “And anyway, your garden is fairly private, who’s going to see you?”

“That is rather kinky, Potter,” Draco said, smirking with a lifted eyebrow. “But not today. Let me put on some clothing and then you can go. Do you have all your things?”

“Think so,” Harry said, rubbing his stubbly face and sitting on the edge of the bed in front of Draco. “Just let me take a quick mental picture of you standing naked in front of me, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

Draco rolled his eyes and tossed a wayward white t-shirt at Harry’s head.

“Hey, this is mine,” Harry said, laughing, as he held up the shirt. “When did you steal this?”

“I beg your pardon, I did not steal anything,” Draco said loftily as he pulled on a pair of pants. “You left that here last weekend, remember? Also, what’s yours is mine, etcetera.”

Harry snorted and tossed the t-shirt back at Draco, who caught it with an agile flick of the wrist. Just to prove his own point, he pulled the t-shirt on and smirked at Harry. 

“Damn, babe, you make a white t-shirt look _good_.”

Draco grinned widely at him and turned to fetch a pair of seldom-worn joggers from his wardrobe to match the too-big shirt. He relished the feeling of Harry’s eyes on him as he got dressed. 

“‘Babe’ is a new one,” Draco said, still smiling. “And I’d make it look a lot better if it actually fit me properly. But alas, my handsome boyfriend is far too muscular for his own good.”

“I have an idea,” Harry said randomly, flinging his ankle over his knee. 

“Hmm?” Draco glanced over at him as he pulled the grey joggers on.

“Why don’t we tell people tomorrow?”

Draco pursed his lips, but he said nothing. 

“Come on,” Harry coaxed. “You’re having dinner at Malfoy Manor tomorrow. I’m going to the Burrow. You can tell your mum and dad about us, I can tell Ron and Hermione, at least, if not all of the Weasleys. It seems like a good time to break the news that we’re a couple.”

“I notice that you’re choosing to bring this up mere moments before you walk out the door,” Draco mumbled, though he smiled at Harry as he said it.

“You said you’d rather tell your parents alone,” Harry pointed out. “And that you thought it’d be better if I told Ron and Hermione alone, too.”

“I would, and I do,” Draco agreed, sitting beside Harry on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure you want to tell them already?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Very sure. I want to climb onto your rooftop and tell the entire world, actually.”

Draco smiled, warmed, and kissed his prickly cheek. “Please refrain, dearest.”

Harry’s eyes softened and he gave Draco one of his favorite half smiles. “So what do you think?”

“I think… I’m nervous,” Draco said, without filter.

Harry took his hand. “Yeah, I’m nervous, too, to be honest.”

“Then why not wait until we both feel a little more comfortable with it?” Draco suggested. 

“I think we’re always going to be a little nervous to tell them, no matter how long we wait,” Harry reasoned. “And I just think it’ll go down easier if they know we told them fairly early on, as opposed to waiting until, like, three months down the road, or something. They might be hurt that we didn’t tell them sooner, if we wait too long.”

Draco considered this, and he knew that Harry was right. He also knew that hearing that he was in a relationship with Harry Potter wouldn’t go down easily for his parents, no matter when he told them, so why not now? 

He imagined that his mother would find a way to act cordial, and despite her inevitable surprise, she would still offer him all the acceptance and understanding that she always had, in every situation. In his heart, he knew she would ultimately be thrilled that he had found love, once she recovered from the initial shock of his choice in partner. In truth, he was rather excited to tell her about Harry, knowing that she was one of the few who would make an effort to be happy for him. Eventually.

His father, on the other hand, had never really learned to accept the things about Draco that he didn’t approve of, and he most certainly had never approved of Harry, in any respect. When he told his father the news, Draco was sure he would leave the room in a fit of fury and wounded pride, and Draco would probably not hear a word from him for months. That suited him just fine, now he thought about it. 

“Alright,” Draco said reluctantly a few moments later. 

Harry’s face lit up. “Yeah?”

Draco smiled. He thought he would do anything in the world if it meant seeing Harry wear that expression. His hand drifted up as if it had a mind of its own and affectionately stroked Harry’s stubbled cheek.

“Yes,” Draco said with an indulgent sigh, rolling his eyes. “Let’s tell them tomorrow.”

Harry lunged at Draco and kissed him deeply. When he pulled away he whispered, “I love you.”

Draco didn’t think he would ever stop feeling the flutter of snitches in his stomach when he heard those words on Harry’s captivating lips. Growing up in a household where ‘I love you’s were used sparingly gave the words all the more power when they were spoken. To Draco, ‘I love you’ was like a potent healing spell, like the most restorative of potions.

“I love you, too, Harry,” he muttered through a smile. “Now let’s go, before you’re late, because undoubtedly your house needs more tidying than you’re anticipating. And don’t forget you have to change the bedsheets in your guest room for Teddy before you pick him up.” 

Harry smiled and kissed him again. “Yes, dear.”

“I mean it, Potter,” Draco said sternly. “ _Before_ you pick him up. Don’t wait until afterwards, because you’ll start playing with him and then you’ll get distracted and forget, and then the poor thing will be waiting for fresh bedding when he’s worn out and ready to sleep.”

“Why the hell did I tell you about that?” Harry complained, shaking his head. “It was one time.”

“Never trust a Slytherin with information he can use against you, Potter.” Draco smirked. “A lesson you really should have learned years ago.”

“Shut up and walk me out, you prat,” Harry grumbled, standing up, taking both of Draco’s hands in his, and pulling him to his feet.

Draco stood and kissed Harry’s nose on impulse; he liked it so much that he did it two more times. 

“There,” Draco said with a grin. “What was that rule about three times making something official?” 

Harry kissed his hand three times in response, and they walked hand in hand out the bedroom and down the hall.

“You talk like a parent, you know,” Harry said, squeezing his hand.

“What do you mean?”

“Lecturing me on bed sheets and preparedness.” Harry chuckled. “You’re very responsible. I think you would be good with Teddy.”

“Perhaps,” Draco said. “Although, the way you talk about him makes me think I could never keep up.”

“You could,” Harry argued, tilting his head. “I do.”

“You have far more energy than I do, Potter,” Draco said. “You’re basically three years old yourself.”

“See?” Harry teased. “You’re already an experienced nanny.”

Draco shoved him playfully out the back door of his little cottage and closed the door behind him. They grabbed each other’s hands again immediately and strolled the few steps into his cheerful little garden, towards the rose bush.

“So we’ll tell our families tomorrow, then,” Harry clarified. 

“You’re very serious about this,” Draco said, grinning. 

“Well, I’m tired of keeping you a secret.”

“I know,” Draco said softly. “Though the clandestine secrecy has admittedly been a little bit exciting, don’t you agree?” 

Harry smiled at him and kissed his hand again. “Yes, I agree.” 

They stopped at the small bench beside the rose bush and turned to face each other. Draco reached for Harry’s other hand so that he was holding both.

“What do you think Weasley and Granger will say, truly?” Draco asked curiously.

“I think Ron will assume it’s a weird joke that he isn’t getting,” Harry snickered. “Hermione will doubt it at first, then try and caution me against it, but eventually she’ll try to understand.”

“Caution you against _me_ , you mean,” Draco said, a little sadly.

“Hey,” Harry said, squeezing his hands. “Don’t.”

Draco sighed. “And she has a point.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You are just so incredibly morbid sometimes, Malfoy.”

Draco made a defiant ‘hmph’ noise and raised his chin in the air. “I believe the word you were looking for was _morose_.”

Harry laughed and leaned his forehead against Draco’s. “I love you so much.”

The declaration chased away his somber thoughts, and Draco smiled at Harry, his ray of sunshine. After a few moments of gazing at each other, they both sighed contentedly and fell automatically into a warm hug.

“I’ll pop over tomorrow night, after the Weasley dinner,” Harry muttered into his neck.

“Good.” Draco nuzzled up against Harry’s head. “I’ll be home by nine, I’m sure, at the latest.”

“Okay.”

“You can stay over,” Draco suggested, a little shyly. “If you want to, that is. Remember school is officially out for summer, so I’m not obligated to be anywhere at all on Monday. Or all summer, come to think of it. And I remember you mentioned that you weren’t starting until the afternoon on Monday, so we might have a little extra time together, in the morning.” 

“Mmm, yes, more Draco time,” Harry murmured. “I’ll stop at home first tomorrow, then, and grab some clothes and things.”

“Then I suppose I’ll see you back here tomorrow night,” Draco said, not wanting to let go of him.

“I suppose you will.”

Neither of them moved.

“Every time I say goodbye to you, I feel a little bit wrong,” Harry said.

Draco thought that was a very romantic thing to say--and next to a flowering rose bush, no less--and he pulled Harry in closer against his chest. 

“I am very in love with you, Harry Potter.”

Draco felt Harry’s soft sigh against his shoulder. 

“Likewise, Draco Malfoy,” he mumbled. “And if I don’t leave now, I’m not going to.”

Draco sighed as well, and he forced himself to pull away. “Very well.”

Harry leaned in for a kiss and Draco kissed him back, as deeply as he could, though it didn’t ever feel deep enough. 

“I like how you kiss me goodbye,” Harry muttered against his lips when they drifted apart. “Like I’m a soldier going off to war.”

Draco chuckled and took a step back towards the bench behind him. “Go away, Potter.”

Harry grinned. “See you tomorrow, angel.”

He turned on the spot and was gone. As shamefully sentimental as it was, Draco immediately felt bereft. 

He sat down on his garden bench and crossed his legs, enjoying the smell of the flowers surrounding him in the late afternoon sunshine. 

Draco now faced an entire evening alone, and he found himself pathetically wishing that he had gone with Harry after all. He fought off the sudden compulsion--but only just--to apparate directly into Harry’s sitting room and declare that he had changed his mind, and then to shower his ravishing face with a deluge of kisses. 

Harry was right; only having weekends together never seemed like enough time. Draco’s heart ached every time they had to say goodbye. His head, however, told him that it was a wise arrangement. For the time being, at least. As much as he wanted to be near Harry every second of the day, this relationship was still very new, and the last thing he wanted was to scare Harry off. Once again he thanked his voice of reason for not entirely abandoning him to his romantic notions, even though that voice had admittedly been quieter than ever these past three weeks. 

Draco leaned back and rested his arm on the back of the bench, wondering what he could do with his solitary Saturday evening. He thought of the dirty clothes and dishes scattered about his cottage--the standard state of things after Harry left--but wasn’t in the mood to tackle it just yet. He didn’t feel like reading, and the evening was altogether too beautiful not to be outside. At moments such as these, Draco wished he had more friends. 

In the end, he puttered around his garden for a long while, watering all the flowers and checking the progress of his sweet peas in particular; yes, they were finally starting to climb up the trellis. Vaguely Draco wondered if he should plant lilies next year; he thought Harry would like that. 

Before Draco could dwell on the idea further, particularly the fact that Harry fitted so easily into his mental plans a year in advance, he was distracted by the faint outline of an owl a short distance away. 

Curious, he stood up, and to his surprise, he saw that it was Harry’s tawny owl, Ariadne. Immediately Draco felt the icy fingers of worry pinching at his chest. Harry had just been here; was something wrong? Of course something was wrong, Draco thought. It had all been too perfect and now it was about to turn to shit, as always.

He held his arm out for Ariadne to land as she approached and immediately ripped the letter from her leg, hastening to unscroll it as she flew over to perch herself on the low hedge surrounding his garden. 

As he read, the wave of panic gradually receded.

My angel,

I love you, I love you, I love you. Remember, three times makes it official. See you tomorrow. Send some kisses back with Ari. 

-Your Harry

Draco let out the breath he was holding in one big puff of relief. 

“Foolish, saccharine bastard gave me a heart attack,” Draco muttered under his breath, alarmed by how terrified he had been at the mere prospect of something happening to Harry. Honestly, his stupid heart was still racing. 

This was how it was always going to be, Draco realized in a sudden moment of clarity. Harry had a piece of his heart, and when he left, it logically followed that Draco would feel somehow… incomplete. Perhaps this worrying was merely another side effect of love. A most inconvenient one, at that.

He held his arm out and patted it twice; Ariadne obediently flew to him a moment later. Draco went inside and nudged her onto his kitchen windowsill, feeding her a few pellets from the ceramic container he kept nearby. 

“You’re giving me flashbacks, Ariadne,” Draco said with a nostalgic smile. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

She hooted at him happily as she enjoyed her evening snack. 

Draco summoned a piece of parchment as well as a quill and ink from his stationery drawer with a flick of his wand. He sat at his table and made a mental note that he needed to purchase more ink as he began writing.

Dearest Harry,

You horrible man. You had me thinking that you were delivering some dreadful news, but instead, you were merely reiterating just how Hufflepuffian you are. I will most certainly not send kisses with your owl, Potter, whatever that means, although I know you will pretend that I have. Honestly, you are the worst, and I am unmitigatedly besotted with you.

I love you, three times. See you tomorrow, and you will definitely receive many kisses then.

Give my regards to Teddy. Please tell me you’ve made his bed up by now.

Your Draco

Draco sent the letter off with Ariadne and started dinner, and by the time he sat down in front of a fresh summer salad and a tall glass of ice water with lemon, she had returned. 

Draco unfurled the scroll, biting into a scrumptiously sweet cherry tomato, and read it with a beaming smile.

My Draco,

You’ll be proud to know that making up the guest bed was the first thing I did when I got home, and I thought of you the whole time. I’m always thinking of you.

Now don’t send another letter because, 1. Our rule of three, 2. I’ll probably start worrying that it’s bad news, too, and 3. I need to be a responsible adult and take care of my godson. Your letters have always been very distracting. 

Teddy says, “Hi, Mr. Dwaco.” He’s the cutest. Honestly, nearly as cute as you.

I love you, three times. Let’s make that our thing. 

Yours always,

Harry 

PS: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

PPS: Ariadne looks thoroughly kissed, well done. 

Draco giggled. It made his inner Slytherin sick to his stomach how bloody happy he was. But as he tucked the letter carefully into the small floral box on the top corner of his bookshelf, the same box that housed every single one of Harry’s letters, he knew he was the luckiest man in the world. 

***

Draco woke with a sharp gasp the next morning, having been jolted awake from a particularly chilling nightmare. He kept his eyes closed as he tried to focus on the sound of light rain tapping melodically against his window. His toes were cold. No, his entire body was cold.

In the dream, he had been sitting at the head table in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, right next to Professor Dumbledore. 

“Look sharp, Draco,” Dumbledore had said, blue eyes twinkling behind those half-moon spectacles. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Draco followed his gaze, and through the tall wooden doors strode Harry, looking dashing in a splendid grey three-piece suit. Draco desperately wanted to go to him, but he couldn’t move from his seat. 

“Harry,” he’d called out, but to his frustration, it came out no louder than the faintest whisper. “Harry!”

“He won’t hear you, Draco.”

The voice beside him should have been Dumbledore’s, but to Draco’s horror, the words were spoken in a cold, mocking hiss. 

Draco had looked over and recoiled; red eyes peered back at him, a menacing smile creeping onto the face that Draco would never forget: Lord Voldemort.

“Torture him, Draco,” he had said, his icy voice sending chills through Draco’s veins. “It’s what you’re best at.”

Draco had shaken his head, but no words had come out. When he’d peered across the Great Hall, Harry was looking back at him with total revulsion in his face. 

And then Draco had pointed his wand at Harry.

“Crucio!”

Harry screamed and writhed in pain on the floor, but his tortured cries were entirely drowned out by piercingly loud, sinister laughter. Draco looked over at the Dark Lord, but he was no longer there; the laughter had been Draco’s.

It was just a dream. Nothing but a stupid, meaningless dream.

Draco counted to five. Then he counted to five again. Thinking of Harry’s silly rule of three, he did it one last time. Finally, he began to feel slightly soothed, though he suspected it had less to do with counting and more to do with the fact that he’d thought of Harry. 

It felt odd waking up alone on a Sunday morning, particularly when he needed Harry’s overheated body so badly, and he thought the weather was rather fitting, given his dismal mood. 

After accepting that the cloud of melancholy would be hanging over his head for the time being, Draco dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. Familiar memories of every terrible thing he had done, as well as the resulting feelings of despair and self-hatred, followed him there like a shadow. 

Draco felt only slightly better once he had bathed and eaten breakfast, so he decided to spend the afternoon cheering himself up with some shopping. He cast a glamor over himself and spontaneously chose to walk to Diagon Alley in the rain, covered by an impervius charm and his favorite black umbrella. 

The inclement weather had deterred several would-be Sunday shoppers from the street, but Diagon Alley was still bustling. Draco did his best to remember that he was unrecognizable and wouldn’t be bothered. 

After spending several hours getting lost amongst the teetering shelves of books in Flourish and Blotts, Draco left the store and saw that the rain had finally let up. He wandered the street and ended up buying an owl treat for both Ariadne and Artemis, his parents’ owl; a bottle of ink for his quill; some of his favorite skincare potion; and a tube of broom polish for Harry. The shopping trip had successfully chased away the gloom of the morning’s nightmare; now he had only to contend with the anxiety of having to tell his parents he was dating Harry bloody Potter. In truth, Draco was terrified.

He headed home in the early evening with just enough time to change his clothing and style his hair, and as he did so, his anxiety became more and more pervasive. Every time he paid a visit to Malfoy Manor he felt this way, inundated with the nightmarish memories of everything the house represented.

On impulse, Draco went outside and carefully snipped a dozen roses from his rosebush for his mother; roses were her favorite, and they smelled especially aromatic after the day’s rainfall. He then grabbed his wand, pocketed Artemis’ treat, and took a fortifying deep breath before apparating to the front gate of his childhood home. 

The sky had cleared considerably over the course of the afternoon, and it felt odd seeing the imposing stone mansion in the golden light of the early evening; somehow the house looked out of place in anything but darkness. Draco counted to five as he approached the gate, which opened for him immediately. He clenched one fist tightly around his wand and the other around the bouquet of roses. 

Malfoy Manor was undoubtedly a beautiful piece of Gothic architecture; Draco would never presume to deny that fact. But looking upon it now made him feel nothing but a nearly crushing sense of something close to panic. He forced himself to take slow and deliberate steps up the long pathway to the front door, doing his best to ignore the overpowering instinct to turn and run in the opposite direction. He reminded himself that this was no longer the torture chamber that it had been a few years ago. This was his parents’ home, and no one was going to hurt him now, as Draco well knew. He hated how his emotions still managed to overrule that voice of reason.

With one last deep breath, Draco approached the front door, which opened wide. Draco stepped inside and looked down to see one of the house elves, Grimby, apparently waiting for him.

“Good evening,” Draco greeted him politely. 

“Master Draco, good evening, sir,” Grimby said, bowing low. 

He wordlessly took Draco’s overcoat and bowed again, backing away from Draco with a slight limp. 

Grimby was one of the last few house elves remaining at Malfoy Manor. He had been well-trained over the years to speak only when necessary and to remain otherwise silent in the presence of wizards. 

Draco was suddenly flooded with shameful memories of how he had treated Grimby in his youth, and of all the horrors the old elf had been a victim to when the Dark Lord had taken over the Manor. Draco stopped himself from extending a pitiful olive branch and asking after Grimby’s health, as he knew it would only lead to consequences for the house elf if he was caught fraternizing with the Master’s son. 

“Mistress Malfoy is in the drawing room, Master Draco.” 

“Thank you, Grimby.” 

Draco kept his face down as he walked through the entrance hall and through the house to the drawing room. Chilling screams, blood stains on the floor and walls, perpetual darkness; he told himself these were only memories, despite how vividly it all stood out in his mind. He had been so cold here; always, so cold. 

Draco forced himself to think of other things; Harry was unsurprisingly the first thought to flit into his head. He tried to busy his mind by coming up with words to describe the exact shade of green in Harry’s eyes, an impossible feat that distracted him sufficiently from the chills in his body.

Finally Draco entered the stuffy drawing room, easily three times the size of his entire cottage, and saw his mother sitting on an elegant velvet sofa by the fire, a book in her hands. 

Narcissa Malfoy, his beautiful mother, was the only thing breathing any life into the house anymore. As a child, he was always rather in awe of her stately sophistication; Draco had often thought that she looked as if she was posing for a portrait at any given moment. She had seemed so unflappable to him while he was growing up, always the pillar of dignity and grace when everything else in his life went to the dogs. 

He’d spent his entire life discovering, with painful awareness, that he took after his father.

Narcissa glanced over as she heard him approach, and they smiled fondly at each other. 

“Draco,” she exclaimed in her melodic voice as she stood and embraced him delicately. “It’s been far too long, my darling.”

“Mother,” he murmured into her soft blonde hair. She smelled like lilac, the way she always smelled, and Draco was instantly comforted. 

Draco found that it felt it strange to hug his mother after nearly a month away from her. He’d gotten used to only hugging Harry for the past three weeks, and hugging Harry was a different experience in every possible way. When Harry hugged Draco, it was without pause, without decorum, and without grace, rather like Harry himself. Harry hugged him like he was offering himself to Draco, no questions asked. 

His mother, on the other hand, was all poise, and she hugged him like she was a mystery unwilling to be solved. Draco loved both of their hugs equally, but Harry’s was the one that felt like home to him now. 

Draco stepped out from her arms and regally held forth the bouquet of pink roses, offering them with a cheeky curtsy. 

“Oh, Draco,” she said with a smile. “They’re lovely. Are these from your garden?”

“They are,” Draco said proudly.

She swished her wand in the air and conjured an ornate glass vase, filling it with a few inches of water and arranging the roses inside with care.

“Thank you, my darling,” she said, and she kissed his cheek. “Come, let’s get you something to drink.”

Narcissa and Draco strolled arm in arm into the dining room, where the table had already been set. 

“You’re looking remarkably well, dear,” she said, studying him carefully. “Your skin is positively glowing.”

 _That’s because I’m in love_ , Draco nearly said. 

“Thank you, Mother,” he said instead. “And you’re looking just as well as always.” 

He nudged her arm playfully. The gesture seemed to surprise her, but she laughed anyway. 

“Your gardens are coming in nicely as well, I see,” he ventured. 

They spoke about flowers as they entered the dining room, which is when Draco felt himself becoming skittish again. He was outrightly panicking a moment later as his father entered the room in a flurry of billowing black dress robes, panicking as the three of them sat down wordlessly at the dinner table, panicking as he felt his parents’ eyes on him. 

“Good evening, Draco,” his father finally said in his chilly, detached voice. 

The prospect of telling his parents about Harry was daunting, and Draco was deliberating over the first course--a tasty chestnut bisque--whether he should just yank it out like a mandrake and have done with it. 

_Mother, Father, I’ve recently begun courting Harry Potter and we’re very much in love. Oh, and he’s bloody fantastic at sucking cock. Goodbye, then._

He sighed and swallowed a delicate spoonful of his bisque, waiting, like a coward, for the opportune moment to fall into his lap.

“What have you two been up to since last we met?” Draco finally asked, hoping to at least have some sort of conversation this evening. 

“We keep busy, as you can imagine,” his mother replied, across the table from him, with a soft smile. “There are all sorts of tasks to attend to, duties to fulfill, social obligations. You remember.”

Draco remembered, alright. He remembered the many grand events that were thrown in this house, dinner parties held for the very best of society. He had always adored creeping back downstairs after he had been sent to bed, watching sneakily from the hallway as the guests floated all around the ballroom in their elegant finery. The decorum and prestige had always delighted him as a boy, like it was all a delectable dream world that he would someday be invited into. 

But as he grew older and did eventually join that world, he was disenchanted not only with the dull company, but by the ridiculous duplicity of it all. Draco eventually found that he didn’t quite agree with the seemingly universal opinions that they tried to coerce him into. He was terrified to think how close they had come to succeeding.

“And how have you been, Father?” he forced himself to ask.

“Very well,” Lucius answered curtly from the head of the table, without glancing up from his soup.

Draco nodded at him. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Draco knew his father was certainly not ‘very well,’ just as he knew his mother was grossly overexaggerating her societal commitments so as not to worry him. But the Malfoys were nothing if not proud, often to a fault. Broaching any subject that might lead to conflict had always been the worst of faux pas in their household. Heaven forbid they ever tell each other how they were truly feeling. Draco almost laughed at the visual image of him and his parents sitting down after dinner to work through their past issues over creme brulee and a nightcap.

Lucius’ three years in Azkaban after the war had changed him irreparably, and Draco knew his mother had suffered as a result, both mentally and socially. He felt a pang of guilt that he hadn’t spent more time with her while his father was in prison, but it had taken him months and months to be able to return to the house at all without experiencing a panic attack. Now that his father was back at the Manor once more, they were all still adjusting to their lives as disgraced members of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. 

The unseen house elves cleared away their bowls from the kitchens below, and the second course of Caprese salad appeared before them. The Malfoys somehow managed to consume the entire course without speaking a single word to each other, and Draco groaned internally at the fact that they still had three remaining courses to sit through. He wished he was sharing the meal with Harry, with whom he could always find something to talk about. 

Draco longed for Harry’s atrocious but endearing lack of etiquette, for the way Harry was always covered in crumbs after eating, for his stupid jokes told through a full mouth. He longed for Harry, full stop.

Draco filed through his mind for any safe topics of conversation, though he knew he was spinelessly avoiding the one topic he needed to raise. He had always avoided bringing up work, as his parents failed to understand the concept of teaching in a muggle school as proper employment, and there never seemed to be much else for Draco to talk about. 

Finally, when he found himself halfway through a main course of duck a l’orange that he thought Harry would’ve liked, Draco sighed and decided it was time. 

“Mother,” he began cautiously, “did you hear that Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley were no longer a couple?”

He knew his mother ran in a vastly different social circle from the Weasleys, but as he had pointed out to Harry earlier, this kind of information always had a way of getting back to her.

She looked at him curiously at the seemingly random choice of subject. “Yes, I had heard that. Months ago, as a matter of fact. Why on earth do you ask, darling?”

Why, indeed. Draco set his fork down and took a sip of water from his crystal goblet. 

“I received a letter from Harry… Potter, several weeks ago.”

“A letter?” his father asked gruffly, glass of wine in hand. 

“Yes,” Draco continued. “He had asked me to meet with him at the Leaky Cauldron so he could return my wand to me.”

His parents both stared at him in disbelief. 

“Small wonder he chose the pub to meet,” Lucius finally mumbled into his glass. “Common.”

Draco was genuinely proud of himself for abstaining from rolling his eyes at that. A rumble of defensiveness filtered through his body to join the nerves already vibrating there, and he placed both hands flat on the table to keep from clenching his fists.

“Yes, well,” he ventured, “I replied with my assent. We met, and he returned my wand, and we… spent some time together. And talked.”

Narcissa’s collected composure slipped only slightly as she stared at her son. Draco saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes.

“Talked?” Lucius barked from the other end of the table. “What on earth about?”

Draco sighed. It was now or never. He gathered what little courage he had as he stared at the half-eaten duck on his plate. He could almost feel Harry’s encouraging hand on his back. 

“We talked about all sorts of things,” Draco began. “It was… a rather pleasant evening, as a matter of fact. So much so that we became… friends.”

Draco shrank a little at the insufficient word, but then he realized it was the truth, if not the complete truth. Before anything else had happened between them, Harry had become his friend first, and despite what they were to each other now, that friendship was a fixed cornerstone in their relationship. He smiled, bolstered, and looked up into the shocked face of his father. 

“Friends, and then something more.”

“More?” Lucius spat. “What are you talking about, Draco?”

“We’re courting, Father,” Draco said, though he looked at his mother as he said it. She merely stared back at him. “Harry and I are together.”

He heard the anxiety ringing in his ears, felt it buzzing through his fingers as he willed desperately for his mother to say something. He needed her to be alright with this. He needed her to love him through this. He tried counting to five, but it did nothing to help him now.

For all the many times Draco’s father had lectured him on upholding the family name and the need to marry a suitable wife and produce an heir, Draco had tried to refute the subject and explain that he was interested in men, that there would never be a wife, would never be a marriage that his father could approve of. It had fallen on deaf ears, every time.

His mother, on the other hand, had always innately understood this about Draco. But Harry Potter? For her to accept that her only child was in a relationship with Harry Potter, the archenemy of the family’s former Master, was a tall ask. Draco knew his mother would struggle to grasp it. He himself could still barely grasp it, and he’d had three weeks to process it all. 

“Draco?” his mother whispered. She reached for his hand from across the table and he took hers without pause. His eyes filled with anxious tears as he waited for her to say something. 

“It’s true,” he whispered back. 

He heard the scraping of Lucius’ chair on the marble floor and both he and his mother looked over at him. He was glowering at Draco with furious eyes; Draco could practically see steam billowing from his nostrils. He looked at his son as if he truly didn’t know him. 

“I forbid it,” he said, so quietly that Draco barely heard him. “I refuse.”

“Lucius,” his mother said. 

“No,” he spat. “This is unacceptable, Draco. Completely absurd. I will not have you making a mockery of the Malfoy name. Either you desist from this nonsense immediately, or you leave my house and do not come back.”

“Lucius!” his mother exclaimed. 

“I wash my hands of you,” he uttered.

Before anyone could say another word, his father spun on his heel and apparated from the room, just as Draco had predicted would happen. 

He tried to take a deep breath, but he felt shaky and unstable. He had known all along that his father would never accept this, but hearing his cutting words struck Draco more deeply than he cared to admit. His eyes were burning and he felt the familiar cocktail of shame and self-loathing brewing in his chest.

Draco heard his mother stand up, and he watched as she wordlessly moved around from the opposite side of the table to sit next to him. She took his hand in hers once more. 

A few moments passed. Draco tried to pull himself together, but the tears on his cheeks were flowing freely. 

“Your father will come around in time, darling,” Narcissa said softly. 

“And you?” Draco asked, wiping his eyes. “I know this is a lot, Mother. I know it seems impossible.”

She nodded, lifting a delicate hand to her forehead. “I must confess, it does.”

“Please, tell me what you’re thinking.”

She breathed deeply and squeezed his hand. “I’m thinking many things, Draco."

“A little less evasive, if you please,” Draco said, attempting a smile.

She breathed out a laugh. “You are a remarkable boy, Draco. A remarkable _man_. Not one of my thoughts suggests anything to the contrary, do you understand?”

Draco nodded, mollified, waiting for her to continue. There was a long pause. 

“Oh, Draco,” she finally sighed. “Harry Potter?”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, pulling his fingers out of her grasp and hiding his face in his hands. “Trust me, Mother, I know.”

“Do you really think this is wise?”

Draco couldn’t help it, he laughed. “I know without a doubt that it’s the very opposite of wise.”

“Then why… why _him_?” she asked, but the question was sincere, not rude. “My darling boy, I’ve always known that you weren’t interested in a wife, and I’ve always accepted your match would be male, but…”

“But… not Harry Potter,” Draco filled in the blank for her.

“Indeed.”

“Indeed.”

They looked at each other quietly for a moment.

“Mother,” Draco said softly. “I love him.”

She sighed, a resigned sort of sigh, and placed a hand on his cheek. 

“Then I wish you all the best,” she finally said. “Both of you.”

He smiled at her. He’d known that they weren’t likely to have a heart-to-heart about his feelings, or how they had come about; at least not right away. It wasn’t exactly a boisterous acceptance, but it was everything he needed to hear. 

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, reaching for her hand again and placing a gentle kiss upon it.

***

Draco left shortly thereafter; his father, unsurprisingly, hadn’t reappeared. Nonetheless, he knew that the evening had gone as well as could be expected, and he arrived home in a reasonably good mood, and far earlier than he’d estimated. He hoped Harry would be early as well; he couldn’t wait to see him. 

Harry. Draco felt soothed just thinking his name. 

He wondered how Weasley and Granger had taken the news. Part of him was terrified to know. Another part had half expected them to be waiting for him, out for blood, when he’d arrived home. Still another part was entertained by the image of their faces when Harry told them he was in a relationship with Draco Malfoy, of all people. It made Draco laugh.

Well, they could question it all they wanted. Everyone could. Harry was his, he was Harry’s, and that was the fact of the matter. 

Draco was desperate for Harry to return to him. He wanted to feel Harry’s arms around his body, watch the look of determined concentration in his green eyes as he unbuttoned Draco’s dress shirt, taste Harry’s kisses on his mouth. 

Draco thought about Harry’s kisses in other places, too. He thought about Harry’s lips around his cock, the way he always licked his tongue slowly around the tip so he wouldn’t waste a single drop of Draco’s cum, how his warm breath felt against Draco’s spit-covered erection. Harry always liked getting him nice and messy.

Before he knew it, Draco had wrapped a hand around his prick, rubbing it slowly over the soft fabric of his trousers. For a moment he considered waiting for Harry, but then a memory from the previous evening came floating into his mind like a heavenly proclamation.

 _It’s kind of a fantasy of mine to walk in on you jerking off_ , Harry had confessed to him.

Excitement flooded through him as he glanced at the clock on the sitting room wall. At least thirty minutes until Harry was due back. 

Draco leapt into the shower and gave himself a swift but vigorous scrub, pulling at his cock every so often in order to tease himself. He would have no problem staying hard until Harry arrived; the thought of being caught jerking off, even if it was planned, turned Draco on. 

He exited the shower and toweled off quickly, rubbing lotion on his arms, the kind that Harry loved the smell of. He left his hair untamed, the way Harry liked, and stayed naked, like Harry told him he should always be. 

He ambled out to the sitting room so Harry would find him sooner, and he made himself comfortable--as comfortable as he could be whilst stark naked, at least. He closed his eyes, once again thinking of Harry. It wouldn’t take much for Draco to become fully hard; the real challenge would be waiting for Harry rather than finishing himself off alone. 

Lucky for Draco, he heard the back door open shortly thereafter. Harry was a little early. Draco let out a tiny moan; the thought of Harry walking in on him sent a tingle through his veins. He gripped his cock more firmly in his hand and stroked it a little faster.

“Draco?” Harry called. “Are you home yet?”

Draco didn’t dare speak for fear of revealing the unbridled lust in his voice; he wanted Harry to be surprised. 

Draco listened with acute attention and mentally mapped out Harry’s every move: he was kicking off those dirty boots that Draco found so attractive; pulling off a layer of clothing, likely a jumper; taking heavy-footed and determined steps out of the kitchen, into the sitting room doorway, and…

“Woah.”

Draco bit his lip and released another moan, stroking himself a little faster now that he knew Harry was watching him. Sure enough, when he looked over at Harry, he was frozen in the kitchen doorway, staring at Draco with his mouth open, entirely rapt.

“Um… hi,” Harry muttered, looking flabbergasted, both eyebrows lifting high and a hand twisting through his hair. 

Draco merely continued to stroke his cock and stared back at Harry, who still hadn’t moved from the doorway. 

“Harry,” he whispered, closing his eyes, “come jerk off with me.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Harry breathed out, finally walking over to Draco and leaning down for a kiss.

Draco pushed him away after only the gentlest of kisses, smiling up at him. 

“No, just masturbate with me,” Draco said in his most sultry voice. “Take your clothes off and sit next to me and touch yourself.”

Harry let out a surprised huff of breath, but he quickly divested himself of his white t-shirt and hurriedly unzipped his fitted black jeans. 

“Draco, you’re so fucking hot, I swear…”

Draco smirked proudly to himself and then let loose another moan as he ran his thumb over the tip of his leaking prick. He watched Harry tug his pants down and kick them away, a move that was so quintessentially Harry that Draco had to smile at him. 

Draco stared unapologetically at Harry’s naked body, his now-exposed cock already stiff. Harry wrapped his hand around his length and sat down on the couch next to Draco. Draco could smell him, that intoxicating fresh cologne mingling with the scent of his arousal, and Draco was already on the brink of finishing. Their bare thighs rested against one another, and Harry licked his lips as he stared blatantly at Draco’s fist pumping his own cock. 

“I always fantasize about us doing this together at Hogwarts,” Harry blurted out as he stroked himself. “And I don’t even care if you think that’s weird.”

“You should know by now that I like weird, Potter,” Draco murmured. “I want to hear everything that you think about. Every disgusting, depraved detail.”

Harry let out a hum of pleasure and leaned back so that his head was resting against the back of the couch. 

“I imagine you and I in the same House, in the common room after everyone’s gone to bed, and you’re alone, and you’re jerking off, and I come in and see you and just watch for a while,” Harry spouted, wanking slowly.

“Do I know you’re there?” Draco asked breathlessly, working his hand faster as he pictured the scene. 

“Not at first,” Harry said, panting a little. “But I start to play with myself while I watch you, I can’t help myself, and you finally hear me make a noise, and you don’t stop, you just stare right at me and keep fucking your own hand, just loving that you have an audience, loving that it’s me watching.”

Draco practically purred, and he picked up his wand. He shot a lubricating spell at Harry’s cock and then at his own. They uttered simultaneous moans as they massaged the lube all over their erections. Harry was as hard as Draco now, and Draco had to resist the temptation to lean down and suck on his perfect prick. 

“I would love you watching me,” Draco agreed, closing his eyes for a minute. “I’d put on a show for you.”

Harry growled in that animalistic way that Draco couldn’t hear without shivering. 

“I’ve thought about us fucking in public,” Harry continued, stroking his cock furiously. “Going out late at night, and before we head home, you pull me into a back alley that’s not even all that secluded, and you pull my trousers down and turn me around and fuck my arse, hard and fast, before we get caught.”

Draco rubbed his cock as he listened to Harry’s grunts and moans, and he let himself be as vocal as he wanted to as well. His cock felt incredible.

“I think about you dominating me,” Draco muttered before he had a chance to second-guess himself. “About you making me an eager little slut for you.”

“Fuck,” Harry groaned. “Tell me more.”

Draco let go of every inhibition as he imagined everything he wanted to do with Harry, every line they could cross together. He wanted to do it all, to have every piece of Harry for his own. His hand twisted vigorously up and down his cock. He could almost feel the magic crackling in the air between them.

“I want you to force me to watch as you wank. And you would come all over yourself and command me to lick it up,” Draco said, hardly aware of what he was saying, but knowing that he meant it as sincerely as he had ever meant anything. “I would get on my hands and knees and crawl over to you. I’d lick up every drop of it, Harry, and you would just watch, watch me licking up your spunk like a fucking animal.”

“Fuck,” Harry grunted again, more strangled this time. “ _Yes_. I would do it, Draco. I would make you get on your hands and knees for me all the time. I fantasize about it sometimes too, about dominating you. I think about fucking your mouth hard, pulling on your hair to force my cock deeper down your throat… I think about fucking your hole as hard as I can, till you’re screaming my name… I think about you with your face to the floor and that pert little arse up in the air for me.”

“Tell me what you would do, Harry,” Draco breathed, looking down at Harry’s cock, rock hard, slippery with lube, flushed red and dripping with precum. “What would you do to me if I was posing like that for you, my arse in the air, begging for your cock?”

“I would spank you,” Harry replied without hesitation. He ran his middle finger over the tip of his cock and caught a drip of precum. “I would call you my little whore and slap my hand across your arse until you felt like you were… until you _knew_ you were.”

Harry lifted his middle finger up to Draco’s mouth and pushed it inside. Draco moaned as he sucked the drop of liquid from Harry’s finger. Harry’s eyes were hungry, lewd, wicked. 

“Good boy,” Harry muttered seductively. 

The praise, spoken in Harry’s gravelly, suggestive voice, made Draco even harder, just when he thought it was impossible. He would have been embarrassed by the noises he was making if he hadn’t known that Harry loved every one of them. 

“Oh fuck, I want to be your whore, Harry,” Draco muttered, right on the edge now. “I want you to spank me until my arse is pink. I want you to fuck me like you own me...”

“Be my fucking whore, Draco,” Harry groaned. “Take my cock so deep in your mouth that you choke on it, beg for my cum.”

“Ah, Harry,” Draco moaned. He was just a breath away from finishing; he could feel it closing in on him. “Give me your cum, feed it to your whore…”

“Oh fuck,” Harry moaned. “Draco…”

“Harry…”

Draco was only just aware that they were finishing at the same time, hearing Harry’s strangled groan just as he felt the overwhelming rush of sensation engulf him. He came hard, not giving a thought to where he was shooting off, letting the sinful sound of Harry’s moans carry him through his orgasm. 

Breathing heavily with his eyes closed, Draco sighed deeply and rested his arm on top of his head. Before he could even form a coherent thought, he felt Harry’s tongue on his stomach and his eyes snapped open. 

Harry was crouched between Draco’s knees, eagerly licking up the mess of cum on Draco’s cock, on his stomach, on the inside of his thighs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco thought he had said he wanted to be the one doing this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to argue.

“Harry,” Draco sighed, burying his fingers into Harry’s mess of curls. 

There was nothing else he wanted to say just then, and as he looked down at Harry’s head between his legs, slowly lapping up the last of Draco’s cum, Draco fell in love with him all over again.

When Harry had finished, he rested his arms over Draco’s thighs and looked up at him, a benevolent smile on his face.

“Yum,” he whispered. 

Draco laughed out loud and leaned down to kiss Harry as thoroughly as he knew how. Harry leaned up on his knees and, as always, kissed him back until Draco had no breath left in him. Finally he pulled Harry up onto the couch beside him. 

“That was something else, angel,” Harry murmured, laying a hand on top of Draco’s leg.

“I never know if ‘something else’ is a compliment or not,” Draco said, feeling completely sated. 

“It’s the highest of compliments,” Harry said, leaning his head against Draco’s. “You never stop surprising me.”

“Likewise,” Draco said. “Face fucking and spanking, hmm?”

“Being dominated and made to feel like a whore, hmm?” Harry retorted with a chuckle. 

“I like that we’re comfortable discussing our perverse fantasies with each other, Potter,” Draco said with a smirk. 

“So do I, Malfoy,” Harry replied. “And I look forward to trying out every single one.”

Draco snuggled up against Harry’s arm and sighed blissfully. “Alright, shall we discuss how our evenings went, now that we’re both feeling sexually gratified? At least, for the time being?” 

“I suppose so,” Harry said quietly. Draco felt his arm tense up.

Draco lifted his head and stared at Harry. His eyes were uncharacteristically shifty, and he was sucking his lower lip between his teeth.

“What’s the matter?” Draco asked, sitting up straight and immediately feeling on edge. He turned and faced Harry, sitting cross-legged.

“Nothing, love,” Harry said with a tight smile, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Harry,” Draco said, briefly gripping Harry’s stubbly chin in his fingers. “I love so many things about you, but one of my favorites is that you’re a completely horrible liar.” 

Harry sighed. “It’s not good.”

“What’s not good, dearest?” He peered deep into Harry’s eyes in an attempt to read him. 

“What I have to tell you.”

Draco’s heart instantly began racing in his chest. He nodded, more to himself than to Harry. He had known this was a possibility; the Weasleys had obviously not taken the news of their relationship well. But he had naively convinced himself that they would accept him, for Harry’s sake.

Obviously he had been wrong.

“Okay,” Draco said. His voice sounded high-pitched. “Okay. So they aren’t happy that we’re together. That’s fine… it’ll be fine, Harry. We can figure out a way to bring them around to the idea.”

Harry shook his head and looked down at his hands in his lap. Draco furrowed his brow as the cold truth slowly crept under his skin.

“What?” he asked in a strangled whisper, leaning back as far away from Harry as he could. “Are we… are you giving up just because they don’t approve of me?”

“No! Draco…”

Draco leapt up from the couch when Harry started to reach for his hands, and he began pacing, running his hands through his hair. He tried hard to calm his erratic breathing.

“Harry, we knew this was a likely scenario,” Draco said, panic coursing through him at full speed. “But I refuse to let you give up on me at the first sign of discord. Particularly when I haven’t even done anything wrong, might I add!”

“Draco…” Harry stood up as well. “No one’s giving up. Listen to me.”

“Alright, fine, you arsehole, I know I’ve done a thousand things wrong,” Draco admitted, desperate now. “I fought for the wrong side in the war, I’m the reason Dumbledore died, I’m the reason for so much destruction…”

“Stop…”

“...and I know I don’t deserve you, Harry, I know I’m insufferable and high maintenance and moody, but please don’t do this… please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Harry said, nonplussed, his mouth hanging open. 

Draco counted to five, and then again, trying desperately to calm his rapid heartbeat as he paced the room. To distract himself, he reached for Harry’s abandoned pair of boxers and pulled them onto his body; they hung low on his hips. Harry reached for his hand, and he yanked it away. 

“Draco,” Harry said firmly. “Look at me.”

Draco shook his head, kept shaking it as he fought back the embarrassing onslaught of emotion that threatened to spill forth at any moment. 

“Draco!” Harry said, loud enough to surprise Draco into looking over at him. 

Harry took Draco’s face between his hands. “You’re having an anxiety attack, Draco. Breathe with me now. Just breathe.”

He breathed in and out as heavily as if he had just completed a marathon. Everything was cocked up again. He’d only managed to hold onto the love of his life for three measly weeks, and now it was all over. But he should have known it. Nothing good stayed in his life. Inevitably, the good things realized that he was a barren wasteland of a human being, and they moved on. Harry, the best of them all, had lasted far longer than Draco ever hoped. 

Eventually Draco felt his heartbeat slowing as he focused on Harry’s beautiful eyes and on the warm, calloused hands resting on his cheeks. Draco’s breath became deeper and more even as he accepted the facts. Harry, the best thing about him, was finished with him now. It had been nothing but an impossible dream. 

Draco let out one last sigh and simply nodded at Harry, who slowly removed his hands from Draco’s face. Harry bent down and picked up his black jeans from off the floor, and he quickly tugged them onto his body. Draco watched him, feeling a powerful sadness in his bones.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked tenderly once he had his jeans on. He was looking at Draco with concern.

“It’s fine, Harry,” Draco said miserably. “I understand.”

“What do you understand?”

“That you’re dumping me,” he muttered. 

Harry snorted. “I told you I wasn’t dumping you.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Fine, I said I wasn’t leaving you, same difference,” he said, smiling. “Either way, I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going anywhere, you stupidly gorgeous twat.”

“You said you had something to tell me,” Draco said, glaring at him. “Something bad.”

Harry’s smile fell away and his eyes clouded over. “Right.”

“Just tell me,” Draco demanded. “Oh Merlin, has someone died?”

Harry snorted again. “No one’s died. Sit down, Draco.”

He obediently sat down on the armchair. “Then tell me now, you git, before I assume the worst again.” 

Harry sat down on the couch across from him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring intensely into Draco’s eyes. 

“Draco… I didn’t tell them.”

Draco merely looked back at Harry as he felt the words sink into his heart. 

“You didn’t tell them,” he repeated.

Harry shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, looking shamefaced. “I’m sorry. No, I didn’t tell them.”

“But… why not?”

Harry let out a pained sigh. “I… I don’t know.”

The Weasleys hadn’t reacted poorly to the news that they were together, after all. The Weasleys hadn’t had a chance to hear the news at all. This was… this was somehow worse. Draco could feel his blood freezing into ice. 

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry said, sighing again. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was planning to pull Ron and Hermione aside tonight and tell them alone, and eventually we did find a moment together, and I… I don’t know what happened. This doesn’t usually happen to me, ever, but I just completely lost all of my nerve. I panicked. I couldn’t tell them.”

“Because you’re ashamed of me,” Draco whispered, the truth of it hitting him forcefully in the stomach. 

“No,” Harry said firmly. “Draco, I’m not ashamed of you.”

“You are, Harry,” Draco said, his whole being going numb. “Think about it. Your Gryffindor courage has never failed you before. I don’t think it would have failed you now, if you hadn’t subconsciously wanted it to.”

“Draco,” Harry said, sounding a little desperate himself now. “Don’t be stupid. That’s not true.”

Draco just nodded. 

“Please leave, Harry,” he said calmly. 

“What?” Harry whispered.

“I’d like you to leave my house,” Draco said. 

“You don’t want that,” Harry said, his eyes wide and terrified. “Let’s just talk about this…”

“Yes, I do want it,” Draco lied. “Leave.”

“I’ll leave if you want me to leave, Draco, but I don’t think you do...”

“I fucking do, you arsehole, now get out of my house!” Draco shouted. 

Harry let out a bewildered puff of air and turned, aghast, towards the kitchen. Before he could take another step, Draco impetuously picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at Harry’s back.

“You’re the one who wanted to tell them in the first place!” Draco screamed at him before he could leave the sitting room. “It was your idea!”

Harry immediately turned back around and held his hands up. “I know. Draco, honestly, I don’t know what came over me…”

Draco hurled another pillow at him, but Harry caught it effortlessly.

“No! Let me throw the damn pillow at you, Potter!” He picked up his last pillow from the couch and clutched it madly in one hand.

“Draco…”

“Put your hands behind your back!” he yelled.

“What?” Harry’s eyes were wide.

“I’m furious with you, Harry, and I’m going to throw this pillow directly at your head, and you’re going to fucking stand there and take it, and that’s the way it’s going to be!”

Harry let out a baffled snort of laughter and wordlessly folded his hands behind his back, wincing a little as he braced for impact. With all the strength he could muster, Draco hurled the pillow mightily at Harry’s head. 

“Ow, fuck,” Harry grumbled, straightening his glasses. “How is your arm still so good? You almost never play quidditch anymore.”

“Fuck you, Harry Potter,” Draco whispered, his voice suddenly devoid of any heat. He felt his face crumple as hot tears spilled out of his eyes.

Harry immediately came to him, holding out his arms. 

“No,” Draco mumbled. 

Harry touched his elbow gently and Draco shoved him away.

“No!”

“Then talk to me, Draco,” Harry pleaded, clutching his hair with frenzied eyes. “Tell me what I can do.”

“I already did,” Draco bellowed. “I told you to get the fuck out of my house.”

“But then you kept talking,” Harry countered, his voice shaking, but he quelled under Draco’s glare. “But fine, okay, I can leave if you want me to leave.”

Draco sank down into his armchair with a groan and folded himself up, hugging his legs. Harry stood frozen a few feet away, merely staring at him, looking on the verge of tears himself. 

“Sit down, you idiot,” Draco said, pointing at the couch and rubbing his tears away. Harry obeyed. 

They stared at each other for a full minute until Draco finally looked down at his knees. 

“Why are you ashamed of me?” 

Draco knew there were a thousand possible reasons. He dreaded hearing which one Harry would give.

“Sweetheart, I’m not ashamed of you,” Harry said, leaning forward again. “I’m not.”

Draco hated that he wasn’t convinced. He hated that Harry didn’t even seem convinced. 

“But maybe you are,” Draco insisted. “Maybe just a little.”

“No.”

“And why wouldn’t you be?” he asked. “What I told you earlier was correct; I’ve caused too much destruction. I’m on the wrong side of history. I have a mark on my arm that symbolizes everything you and your family hate. How on earth could I ever presume that we could get past that?”

Harry stared at him with a scowl and said nothing. 

“It’s like I told you three weeks ago, Potter,” Draco said gently. “I knew our shared history would come back to bite us one day.”

Harry sighed and bent his head down so he was staring at the floor. Draco knew he was trying not to cry. 

“Look, Harry,” Draco sighed. “I don’t hold it against you. Our feelings for each other all came about so quickly that maybe we did prematurely rush into a relationship.”

“I know you don’t believe that,” Harry said, not looking up from the floor. 

Draco shrugged to himself, feeling utterly defeated. “I just discovered that my boyfriend is ashamed of me. I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

“I’m not fucking ashamed of you!” Harry screamed, standing up in a flash. 

Draco looked up at him in surprise, but he quickly tempered it. He could feel every wall crumbling down around him, and he knew that he and Harry were about to see each other with their gloves off for the first time since Hogwarts. Draco didn’t care; he was too angry and too hurt to care. 

“Then why didn’t you tell them about me?” Draco roared.

“I don’t fucking know, Draco!” Harry shouted. “I already told you, I don’t know why!”

“Then fucking ask yourself that question, Harry!” Draco shouted back at him, unfolding his legs and standing as well. “There’s a reason you didn’t tell your two best mates that you’re in love, because in no world would you have kept that from them, had I been any other person!”

“Stop it!” Harry yelled, lifting both arms in the air and looking almost mad. 

“I suppose I can’t blame you for wanting to keep the relationship hidden, though,” Draco continued, shrugging dramatically. “Why would you ever want people to know that you’re dating a death eater?”

“Don’t you dare fucking start calling yourself that again!” Harry was shifting back and forth on his feet like a bull ready to charge. “And you know that’s not how I feel!”

“How am I supposed to know how you feel if you won’t tell me?”

“I am bloody telling you, Draco!” Harry pulled at his hair in frustration. “You’re just not listening to me!”

“Because I know you hate the things I’ve done, you hate that you’re in love with someone who hurt people,” Draco argued.

“I don’t hate it,” Harry mumbled. “I’ve forgiven you.”

“How can you possibly forgive me?” Draco scoffed. “I’m the very worst that humanity has to offer. I’d be ashamed of me, too!”

“Draco fucking Malfoy,” Harry growled. “Do not say that about yourself, ever again.”

Draco counted to five in an attempt to calm himself. After a long pause, Harry continued in a slightly less menacing voice. 

“You’re projecting your own misguided self-loathing onto me and you’re assuming that’s the reason I didn’t tell them.”

“Oh, fuck you, Harry,” Draco spat, calmness be damned. “It’s not misguided at all! Stop wearing sodding blinders around me and acknowledge that I was a shitty person for most of my life!”

“Be that as it may, I have forgiven you for it all,” Harry said through clenched teeth. Draco could tell he was forcing himself not to yell. He felt a little resentful that Harry was able to control his emotions so much better than Draco was; self-control was supposed to be his domain, not Harry’s. 

“When I look at you, I don’t see your past,” Harry continued. “I only see how wonderful a person you’ve become.”

“Well, every time I look at _you_ , I can’t help but hate myself!” Draco retorted petulantly, knowing it was a step too far even as it came out of his mouth.

Harry looked as if he had been slapped. “How the hell can you say that to me, Draco?” 

“Because you’re bloody perfect! You’re the perfect human, and you’ve always been too good for me, and that’s a fact!” Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wasn’t about to back down now. “You can lie to yourself all you want and pretend that I’m this lovely new version of Draco, redeemed and reformed, but my past isn’t simply going to float away just because we both want it to, Harry. The things I’ve done will never be erased.”

“I fucking know that, Draco,” Harry growled. “And the things _I’ve_ done in _my_ past won’t either."

“Oh yes, all those heroic things you’ve done will always haunt you, what a tragic reality to live with.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Harry gestured at Draco’s bare chest. “Fine! You look at me and hate yourself, but I look at you and I’m reminded of what I did!”

“Well stop fucking looking at me then!” Draco shouted. “Just leave me and find yourself some equally perfect bloke who you can show off to your perfect family. Go back to that Draco clone that you were seeing before you wrote me that first letter. He’ll be a great replacement boyfriend for you. Far fewer issues, far less drama.”

“Now you’re just speaking nonsense, Malfoy,” Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, I’m sorry, maybe I’m just a nonsensical little tosser.”

“Obviously,” Harry grumbled under his breath. 

“What was that!?” Draco yelled. “Now you’re calling me a nonsensical tosser?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, you’re the one who said it, you lunatic!” 

“Never agree with me when I’m being self-deprecating, Potter!” Draco spouted. “You should really fucking know that by now!”

Harry chuckled, and then clapped his hand over his mouth. Draco fought back a smile.

“Oh, get the fuck out of my house, Scarhead,” Draco said in a bored voice.

“Stop kicking me out, I’m not going to leave.”

“Clearly!” Draco yelled. “No matter how many times I tell you to!”

“Because I know you don’t really want me to leave, Draco!” Harry said, exasperated. 

Draco let out a snarl. “I really fucking hate you sometimes, Harry.”

“Well I fucking hate you too.”

“I suppose that’s why you’re ashamed of me.”

“I swear, if you say that one more time, I’ll…”

“Ha!” Draco interrupted him. “You’ll do what? I would absolutely love to hear what it is you’ll do if I say it again.”

“I’ll… pour all of your skincare potions down the sink.”

Draco glared. “You would not.”

Harry snickered. “Of course I won’t, you wanker.”

Draco snorted. 

“I’ll wank _you_ ,” he muttered, childishly.

“Yes, please do that,” Harry said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“I always do, don’t I?” Harry said with a wink.

“Don’t flirt with me while we’re quarrelling, Potter.”

“You started it,” Harry argued. “And it’s not my fault you look sexy when you’re hysterical.”

“Everything is your fault,” Draco concluded, nose in the air. “Which is why I want you to leave.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means nothing, Potter, I’m just fucking furious with you, and I obviously don’t want you to leave my house, dammit… but I don’t know why you couldn’t just tell your two best friends in the world that you fucking love me.”

Draco was mortified when his voice broke on the last word and he placed his hand over his eyes in a fruitless attempt to stop the tears from coming again.

“Draco…” 

Draco could feel Harry approach him, so held his hand out to stop Harry from coming any closer.

“Don’t touch me,” he said sullenly.

Harry stopped in his tracks and growled in aggravation once again, squeezing the back of his neck with both hands. 

“Look, we’re both being irrational right now,” Harry said, in a rare display of sense. “Why don’t we just calm down and take a deep breath, yeah?” 

Draco growled right back at him. “Don’t patronize me, Potter.”

Harry lifted an exasperated eyebrow at him and Draco sighed.

“Fine.”

Draco breathed in deeply through his nose, looking into Harry’s eyes as he did the same. They held their breath for a beat.

“And out,” Harry said, exhaling in tandem with Draco. 

They both held each other’s gaze. Finally Harry released an audible sigh. 

“I should’ve told Ron and Hermione about you,” he said, flopping back down onto the couch behind him. “About us.”

Draco sat down on his armchair, placated. “Yes, you should have.”

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t,” Harry said, contrite. His watery eyes certainly helped his case. 

“And I’m sorry for saying that looking at you makes me hate myself,” Draco admitted. “That’s not true at all. But I’m not sorry for anything else I said, Potter, and I am still angry with you.”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry said again.

Draco sighed. “I know you are.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell them,” Harry said. “Please believe that.”

Draco bit his lip. “I don’t know if I can believe it, Harry. It’s all too weird. It’s weird that you didn’t tell your best mates that you’re in love. So fucking weird.”

“I know,” Harry agreed, nodding. “But I’m not ashamed of you, Draco, and I hate that you think I am.”

“Well, if you’re not, then why else might you have lost your nerve tonight?” Draco asked, staring at his knees again.

Harry groaned. “I told you, I don’t know.”

“And I’m asking you to come up with some possible answers, you half-witted, infuriating man,” Draco huffed. “Let’s figure it out together, as you so often say.”

Harry finally graced him with the smallest of smiles, and Draco felt a weight flying off his shoulders. Maybe this would turn out alright. 

“You’re far too logical for your own good, Malfoy,” he muttered. 

“One of us has to be,” he mumbled back. 

“Maybe I’m…” Harry shook his head, clearly at a loss. “Maybe I’m afraid.”

“I know that’s certainly part of it,” Draco agreed. “I was afraid when I told my parents this evening.”

Harry looked at him in surprise. “Shit, I completely forgot that you told them… You told them?”

Draco smirked at him. “Of course I did. Looks as if I’m the Gryffindor tonight, Potter.”

Harry held up his hands with a smile. “I’ll happily second that.”

“Why thank you,” he said. “I do look rather fetching in red.”

Harry gave him a half-smile. The advantage that smile gave him was really quite unfair.

“So how did they react?” Harry asked him. 

Draco shrugged petulantly. “I’m going to withhold the information until you’ve told your family, if indeed you ever do. But I will say that it wasn’t all rainbows and flowers.” 

“I thought not,” Harry sighed. “And I guess that would be fair, not telling me. Okay.”

“Alright. So. Afraid, and why else?” Draco said, circling back to Harry’s reasons for not telling Ron and Hermione. He crossed his legs, feeling much more comfortable now that he had regained control of the conversation.

“Maybe afraid is the only reason,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Afraid is not the only reason.”

“Well what are your theories then, genius?”

“I told you my theory already,” Draco said. “You’re ashamed of--”

“Fuck, would you please stop saying that?” Harry said tersely. “I really don’t feel ashamed of you, Draco, and I never will. You’re everything I want. I could never be ashamed of you.”

Draco folded his hands in his lap, deep in thought. 

“Perhaps you’re afraid that they would’ve tried to talk you out of it?” he suggested.

“Maybe.” Harry shrugged. “But I don’t think anyone could talk me out of being with you, so I also don’t think that I would be afraid of that.”

“Then maybe you don’t really love me, or don’t really want to be in this relationship?”

“Stop it,” Harry said, sounding angry again. 

“Well?” Draco shrugged. “I’m merely brainstorming all the possibilities.”

“Those are _impossibilities_ , Draco,” Harry stated firmly. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t question my feelings for you again.”

Draco felt an inappropriately-timed shiver of arousal in his groin at the demanding tone of Harry’s voice. He quite forgot what his next theory had been.

“Alright,” Draco pressed on, a little flustered. “So you love me and want to be with me.”

“Which I thought was beyond obvious by now.”

“Then why else might you not have told them?”

Harry groaned in frustration. “Are we going to keep discussing this until I come up with a reason? Because I don’t even think there really _is_ a reason. I just panicked.”

Draco allowed himself to consider that possibility. Maybe Harry was right; maybe Draco had just been quick to assume the worst, just as he always was.

Draco nodded. “Alright.”

“Alright?"

“We’re brainstorming possibilities.” He shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

Harry stared at him for a few moments and finally lowered his head again. 

“Or maybe it’s because of Fred.”

Draco inhaled sharply. “What?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. “This is the only thing I can come up with, but I actually think I’m right about it. Please don’t be offended, and just hear me out?”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows but nodded curtly. 

Harry sighed. “Maybe I… Maybe I was afraid that they would see it as a bit of a slap in the face for me to be in love with someone who…”

Draco froze again. He counted to five and somehow kept his composure. 

“Someone who what?” he asked gruffly. “Please finish that thought, Potter.”

“Someone who fought in a war alongside the person who killed Fred Weasley,” he said tentatively, staring at Draco with cautious eyes. “I guess… maybe there was some truth to what you were saying earlier.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking down in tears again. He knew Harry made a very good point--a point that Draco had introduced, really. But it stung, and it all amounted to the same thing: Harry was ashamed of him.

“I see,” Draco said at last. 

“What are you thinking?” Harry asked him. 

Draco shrugged. 

“You do know,” Harry pressed. “Tell me.”

“What you just described, Potter… it’s a version of shame.”

Harry studied him and Draco could see that he was finally seeing reason. Draco felt a blanket of resignation sweeping over him. 

“It was always too good to be true, Potter,” Draco sighed. “You and I.”

Harry looked at him funny. “What on earth are you talking about, Malfoy?”

“No matter how much we love each other, no matter how right we are for each other… we’re not the only ones involved in this relationship. Our feelings aren’t the only ones that matter.”

“What are you saying?” Harry said, desperation in his voice once again. 

“I’m saying that it’s admirable that you’re taking into account the feelings of your family,” Draco said softly. “It’s heroic and selfless and very, very _Potter_ of you. And I think that if your family will be hurt by our relationship, then I can… I can find a way to let you go. Because I would never make you choose between me and them.”

“And you never have to,” Harry argued, scooting forward to the edge of his seat. “Don’t talk like this.”

“You told me three weeks ago that I could be the voice of reason in our relationship, Potter,” Draco said numbly. “This is me being the voice of reason.”

“Shut the fuck up, you overdramatic arse,” Harry said, standing up. “I’m going back there right now and I’m going to tell them that we’re dating, that I love you, that you love me, and that we’re going to marry each other and have at least one ridiculously pale child and grow old together and that’s just the way it is.”

Draco’s whole body froze at the word ‘marry’ and didn’t move again after it.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so damn shocked, Malfoy. I know it, you know it, my family might as well know it too. And if it’s too much for them to handle, then I really, really hope they can eventually come around to it, because you’re mine, forever, and I’m not going to give you up just because it might make some people uncomfortable.”

“Not ‘some people,’ Harry,” Draco finally found his voice. “Your family.”

“Yes," Harry sighed, “my family. My fucking family. If my family doesn’t at least try to accept that the man I love has faults, then they’re not much of a family.”

“Faults?” Draco asked, bewildered. “Harry, I’m a Malfoy. For one thing, my family has always treated the Weasleys like vermin.”

“Your father did,” Harry agreed. “Not you.”

“I enabled an infiltration that led to Dumbledore’s death!”

“You know that wasn’t your fault, it was planned…”

“I fought against them in a fucking war, Harry,” Draco interrupted him angrily. “A war that led to the death of their fucking child! Your best mate’s brother!” 

“I know that, Draco,” Harry said, sitting down again. “It was a shitty thing to do. Are you sorry for it?”

“Don’t do that, don’t trivialize this…”

“Are you sorry?”

“Harry!” he screeched.

“Are you sorry?”

“Of course I’m fucking sorry!” Draco yelled maniacally. “I regret every fucking thing I did that entire year, and probably longer!”

Harry merely shrugged. “Then that’s enough for me, and it will be enough for them, too.”

“You can’t know that.”

“No, I can’t know that,” Harry agreed. “But I’ll tell them and see what happens, and then I _will_ know that. Because they’re good people, Draco, the very best I know, and they’ll forgive you just as I have.”

Draco stared at him. 

“And Draco…” Harry sighed. “You’re not responsible for any of those deaths, okay? I know you don’t believe me now, but I hope you do someday. Because, even though you did some really awful things, ultimately, it wasn’t your fault. Dumbledore, Fred… it’s not your fault, angel.” 

Harry looked at him expectantly, but Draco had completely run out of words. Harry was right; Draco didn’t believe him. But he believed that _Harry_ believed it. And that was something. 

“Can you just come over here now?” Harry said with a groan. “I want to hold my boyfriend.”

Draco wanted to acquiesce, wanted to dive across the room into Harry’s arms and make camp there permanently. But he held to his pride a little longer. 

“No, I’m still far too angry with you.”

“How long are you going to be angry with me?” Harry asked with a long-suffering sigh.

“Until one of us dies, Potter.”

“How long, really?”

He sighed. “I don’t bloody know. You…”

“What?”

“I just said some truly awful things to you,” Draco pointed out. “Why do you even want to hold me?”

Harry shrugged. “Because I always want to hold you. And I said some truly awful things, too. That’s what fights are.”

Draco looked at his knees yet again. “You really don’t know how much it hurt me to hear that you didn’t tell them.”

He heard Harry sigh again. “I’m sorry. I feel like a piece of shit.”

“Good,” Draco said in a surly way. 

“Alright, I’m going to tell them now.”

Draco looked up to see that Harry was once again standing and pulling his wand from the back pocket of his jeans. 

“You can’t be serious, Harry.” Draco stood as well.

“Of course I’m serious,” Harry said. “I’m going to apparate directly into Ron and Hermione’s house, and even if they’re midway through a shag, I am going to shout at them that I’m in love with Draco Malfoy and that that will never change.”

“Oh you had to go and put that revolting image in my head, did you?” Draco shuddered.

Harry smirked. “You’re welcome.”

And Harry turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen towards the back door. Draco scrambled after him in shock. 

“Harry, it’s late!” he said. “And you’re not even wearing a sodding shirt, you imbecile!”

Harry didn’t stop, so Draco grabbed his arm and turned him around. 

“Wait,” Draco said. “I appreciate the sentiment, Harry, but you don’t have to do this now.”

Harry’s hands came up to rest on Draco’s waist, and Draco instinctively wrapped his around Harry’s shoulders. Their foreheads touched automatically, and Draco felt a sense of peace seeping into him for the first time all day.

“You know,” Harry murmured, “I was determined to go do something just a moment ago, but now that you’re finally in my arms, I really don’t remember what that could have possibly been.”

“Harry, you are ridiculous.”

He smiled. “Are you going to kiss me now?”

Draco rolled his eyes and kissed him, and, heavens above, it was like a lightning bolt shot through his body. Harry tasted faintly of treacle tart, and Draco’s heart melted into a puddle inside of him. How on earth had he ever entertained the idea of letting him go? 

When Harry finally pulled away, he sighed into Draco’s mouth.

“There’s no way I will ever let go of you, Draco Malfoy.”

For someone who couldn’t do legilimency to save his life, Harry really was very good at reading Draco’s thoughts. Draco smiled and kissed him once again. 

“Say the word and I’ll go tell them all now,” Harry whispered. 

“It can wait,” Draco whispered back.

“I am going to tell them,” Harry declared. “The next time I see them, I promise.”

“I believe you, Harry,” Draco said, fingering the thick hair at the back of his neck. “But not tonight. I don’t want you to spring it on them this way. They’re going to want an explanation, and… well, frankly, I don’t want you to leave either. I want you back in my bed right now, as a matter of fact.”

Harry smiled at him and kissed him again.

“Stop doing that,” Draco muttered when they pulled away. “You make me forget my own name sometimes.”

“It’s Draco.”

“Yes, thank you so much, dearest.” He rolled his eyes. 

Harry leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I love you,” Harry said. “Three times.”

“Obviously,” Draco replied, his heart full. “You do realize you proposed marriage not fifteen minutes ago?”

Harry shrugged and grinned. “How ‘bout it, Malfoy?”

Draco ignored those pesky snitches and did his best to look haughty. “If you honestly think that I’d say yes to a proposal that pathetic, you are exponentially more delusional than I thought, Potter.”

Harry just smiled at him as if he held the sun, moon, and stars in his hand. Suddenly Harry gripped his arm tightly and spun on the spot, apparating them both into Draco’s bedroom.

He let out a squeak of surprise and clutched Harry for balance as they stumbled to a landing on the floor. 

“Warn me, Potter,” he mumbled, smoothing down his hair out of habit.

“Tell me you love me,” Harry pleaded, placing his hands on Draco’s face.

“I love you,” Draco said without hesitation. 

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, stripping his jeans off as quickly as he had put them on. Once he was naked again, Harry stepped up flush against Draco’s body, closer than he’d been since yesterday. Draco shuffled backwards along with him until he felt the backs of his legs hitting the bed.

He could feel Harry’s breath against his lips, feel the body heat from his chest, his legs, his groin. Draco swallowed as he felt himself grow stiff beneath his pants, Harry’s pants, really, and he gasped as Harry cupped Draco’s cock in his hand, rubbing it gently. 

Draco moaned softly against Harry’s cheek and leaned into him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders. 

“Harry,” he whispered. “Fuck me.”

Harry kissed him, as always, like it was the first and last time. Draco melted against him, Harry’s glasses digging familiarly into his face, and they fell back onto the bed. 

They kissed each other hungrily, making a mess of each other’s mouths, and Draco already felt the animalistic need for Harry deep in his belly. Draco shimmied further up the bed, and together they pulled the boxers off of him. Harry threw them unceremoniously to the ground and whipped his glasses off his face and onto the nightstand. Gently he nudged Draco’s legs apart, bending his head down over Draco’s cock. 

Draco leaned back against his pillow and moaned as Harry worked his cock with his tongue, over every inch, quickly getting Draco harder. 

Harry’s tongue drifted lower and licked up and down Draco’s arse, surprising him only a little, since Harry had only done this once before. He silently thanked every deity that he had showered only a short while earlier. 

Draco was moaning loudly, lost in Harry’s ministrations, until the tip of Harry’s tongue entered his hole. He nearly screamed, and he tensed immediately, peering down at Harry, who looked back at him with wide eyes. 

“Sorry,” Harry muttered instantly, his lips red and glistening with saliva. “I should’ve asked first...”

“Don’t fucking stop, Harry,” Draco demanded in a strangled whisper, tangling his fingers through Harry’s hair and pushing his head back down where it belonged. “Just… go slow, alright?”

Harry moaned against his hole and Draco tried to relax his muscles as he felt the course wetness of Harry’s tongue enter him again. Draco cried out once more, the sensation almost too much for him already. He could feel Harry’s face pressed up close inside his arse, his lips kissing and sucking, and his tongue… fuck, his tongue. Harry’s tongue was inside of him, and he had never felt anything so completely intoxicating before. Draco couldn’t help it; he was being as loud as he had ever been. His hips lifted as if begging for more of Harry, needing him closer, deeper.

“Use your finger,” Draco murmured suddenly, without thinking. It came out more like a question than a command.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned. “Yeah?” He ran his tongue along Draco’s perineum and Draco groaned back at him.

“Yes,” Draco hissed his assent. “Please…”

Harry moaned and Draco watched as he put his pointer finger in his own mouth. Draco wrapped his hand around his cock and jerked himself as Harry sucked on his finger. He saw that Harry was hard as a rock and dripping precum, and the sight made him feel as if he could come right then and there. Harry slid his already-wet finger over the tip of Draco’s cock, and then over his own, using the slightly sticky liquid as extra lubrication for Draco. 

Draco truly did feel like coming as he watched Harry slowly place his soaked finger against Draco’s entrance. Their eyes met and Draco barely held it together as Harry pushed his finger slowly, so slowly, inside Draco. 

“Ahhhh…” Draco cried. “Yes…”

Harry and Draco were practically panting in sync as Harry slid his finger all the way into Draco’s hole. Draco was moaning loud, too loud, indecently loud, as Harry moved his finger inside, pushing in, pulling out, so gently that Draco thought he might explode with want. Draco was writhing, out of control, alight with the devastating pleasure of it.

“Another,” he gasped. 

Harry’s moan was almost pleading, but he obliged, slowly stretching Draco’s hole with a second finger. Draco well and truly screamed, biting down on his lip as he rocked his hips up and down, back and forth, fucking himself on Harry’s fingers. Draco was just conscious enough to look down and see that Harry was stroking his own cock as he fucked Draco’s arse with his hand. Draco wanted to come, wanted Harry to come. He couldn’t last like this, but he needed to… 

“Harry…” Draco whispered a full minute later. “Please… I need you…”

“Tell me what you need, Draco,” Harry gasped. “I’ll do anything.”

“I need you inside me,” he whispered. “I need you…”

“Draco,” he forced out in a choked breath. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Harry,” he said, grinding his arse against Harry’s fingers. He needed more, needed all of Harry. He had never been more ready for anything. “I need your cock inside me. I need you to fuck me.”

Harry didn’t hesitate for a single moment. He picked up his wand and fired a series of silent spells at his cock, rolling onto his back and pulling Draco swiftly on top of him. Draco balanced on his knees over top of Harry, and he saw that Harry’s cock was now dripping wet with lube.

“Like this,” Harry breathed out, gripping Draco’s thighs. “You’re in control this way. You can stop if you want, okay?"

“I won’t,” Draco told him. 

“But you can,” Harry repeated, tenderly stroking the side of his face. 

Draco nodded, sitting back slightly. Harry linked their fingers together and Draco grinded his arse against Harry’s cock.

Harry yelled out in pleasure. “Ahh… Stop, if you do that I’ll come before I can even put it in.”

Draco nearly laughed, but he felt Harry wrap a hand around his erection and instantly lost thought of all else. Harry moved his hips and positioned himself and Draco in place, and slowly, slowly, slowly, Draco sank down onto Harry’s cock. 

The feeling… Draco felt Harry fill him inch by inch and was so overcome by the profoundness of it that he nearly sobbed. He stopped for a moment when he was sure he couldn’t take Harry any deeper, allowing himself a second to breathe in and out, and letting the ring of muscle relax, and then clench. He felt Harry stretching him out uncomfortably, and he pushed down further, past the slight pain, until finally he felt Harry’s cock hitting a spot inside of him that made him see stars. It felt so full, so tight, that Draco didn’t move for a moment. 

Harry gazed up at him through nearly-closed eyes, his mouth gaping. “Oh, Draco…”

Draco gasped and tossed his head back, reveling in the sensation. Slowly he began to move his body, feeling Harry’s cock sliding inside of him. It felt… Merlin, it felt beyond incredible.

He felt Harry’s hand sliding over his cock, stroking it maniacally. 

Draco couldn’t control the noises coming out of his mouth, and he didn’t want to. He wanted Harry to know how he was feeling, how mind-blowingly, over-the-top _amazing_ it all felt. Harry’s nonstop moans and the look on his face told Draco that he was right on the edge, just as Draco was. Draco kept moving for as long as he could, but he knew he was about to come.

“Come inside me, Harry,” Draco begged.

“Draco,” Harry gasped again, and Draco suddenly felt the wet warmth of Harry releasing inside of him. 

The sensation, along with Harry’s strangled cries, and the heavenly vision of Harry’s face twisted in unadulterated pleasure, finally pushed Draco over the edge in a blinding eruption of ecstasy. With an uncontained shout, he came explosively, shooting his cum all over Harry. 

As he rode out the aftershock of the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced, and Harry’s arms found their way around him again, Draco’s solitary conscious thought was that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

***

“Make-up sex is nice,” Harry murmured into Draco’s hair a long while later, after they had cleaned up a bit and entwined themselves into a comfortable snuggle. 

He snickered and nuzzled his face into Harry’s chest. “Agreed.”

“Are you sure you’re still okay?” he asked again, squeezing Draco’s arm and kissing the top of his head. “You’re not hurting?”

Draco hummed lazily in response. His arse did feel a little sore, but it wasn’t anything close to unbearable. “Worth it.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain, though,” Harry muttered. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Stop fussing, Potter,” Draco murmured, content. “My arse, like the rest of me, is perfectly fine.”

Harry chuckled. “Okay.”

“Did you… like that?” Draco felt a little self-conscious asking the question, but he knew Harry would answer honestly. 

“That may be the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me, Malfoy.” He pulled Draco closer against his chest. 

“Is that a yes, then?” Draco asked, smiling.

“It’s an obvious and resounding fuck yes,” Harry replied. “It was better than I could’ve ever imagined, and I imagined a lot.”

“A glowing review,” Draco teased. “How very kind of you.”

“I feel like I should applaud or something,” Harry said, laughing.

“A little praise will get you everywhere, my dear.”

“Seriously, Draco,” Harry whispered. “It was absolutely perfect. _You_ are absolutely perfect.”

Draco smiled to himself. “Likewise.”

“You’re really sexy,” Harry blurted out.

Draco laughed. “Thank you, Harry.”

“I know this is very stupid, but I still get butterflies every time you call me Harry.”

“Do you?”

“Big time.”

Draco smiled. 

“Hey, when did you first start fancying me?” Harry asked in his random way, tracing mindless patterns up and down Draco’s bare arm. 

“If I answer that, will you answer as well?” Draco replied.

“Of course I will.”

“I’ve always fancied you, Harry,” Draco told him honestly. “From the very first moment.”

Harry didn’t speak for a long time. Finally he said, “That’s not a real answer.”

Draco giggled and rolled off of him, sitting up in bed and facing backwards so he could see Harry. His heart skipped a beat or two as he looked at his beloved, one arm flung over his head, messy hair strewn across the pillow, a soft smile on his face. Harry reached up and laced his fingers into Draco’s hair, and they merely gazed at each other. Draco felt euphoric.

“I think I always wanted to snog you,” Draco finally admitted. “I always thought you were fit. But the first time I remember having real, undeniable feelings--outside of my constant internal debate about whether I wanted to kiss you or hit you, that is--was when they brought you to Malfoy Manor, when your face was all messed up.”

Harry gave him a half-smile and Draco laid his hand on Harry’s chest. 

“My messed up face turned you on, did it?” Harry teased. Draco ignored him.

“I remember being so terrified at the idea of you being hurt, being caught… I knew I would rather die than have anything happen to you. I suppose that made things rather obvious for me, as far as my feelings were concerned.”

Draco lost himself in the look Harry gave him.

“Thank you for saving me that night,” Harry said softly. “You were really brave.”

Draco was about to lie down on Harry’s chest again, but Harry sat up, spreading his legs and pulling Draco against him. Draco folded himself up in Harry’s arms, and Harry cradled him against his warm body.

“There was never any choice, Harry,” Draco said simply. “Now it’s your turn. When did you start to fancy me?”

“Much, much later,” Harry chuckled. 

“Fuck off,” Draco laughed. “Tell me.”

“Well, you said you had those weird feelings of being unsure whether you wanted to snog me or hit me: I had those feelings as well.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “The first time I felt that way was in fifth year, after that one quidditch match, remember? When we got into a fist fight?”

“Oh, yes, I do remember that,” Draco said. “God, I said some really awful things to you.”

“Yes you did,” Harry snorted. “I wanted to hex you, and punch you, and push you to the ground and fuck you. All in equal measure.”

“Fuck me?” Draco asked, surprised. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Harry told him. “You were all sweaty and angry and mmm.”

Draco laughed, pleased. “I was fifteen, I was always sweaty and angry.”

Harry laughed with him. “You were gorgeous.”

“What about real feelings, then?” Draco pressed. “You told me those didn’t happen until three weeks ago.”

“They didn’t, not really,” Harry said. “Although when they hit me, they hit me hard and fast.”

“When?”

“I think when you first took off your glamor charm,” Harry answered. “You looked so fucking _good_ , and you were looking at me so intensely, and I was just thinking, oh fuck me, those damn eyes. Oh, and then again when we were walking home, the first time you laughed. That was like a punch in the stomach. And honestly by the time I walked through your front door I knew I was not leaving until I’d at least kissed you.”

Draco was beaming. He sighed. “You complete sap.”

“Yes I am,” Harry said proudly. “I’m a romantic, sentimental fool and I’m just so into you.”

Draco giggled. 

“There were a thousand times I wanted to kiss you that night and I just lost all my nerve,” Harry continued.

“Yes, obviously that does happen to you sometimes,” Draco said, and regretting it immediately. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have brought it up again.”

“It’s okay, I deserve it.” Harry pulled him closer. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Sorry for not kissing me?” Draco teased. “For that I will never forgive you.”

“So, how do you think I should tell them?” Harry asked. “How did you bring it up with your parents?”

“I asked Mother if she had heard that you and the Weaslette had split up,” Draco said.

“That’s a good lead-in,” Harry said. 

“And then I told them you had written to me, we had met up, we became friends and then we became more, and now we’re courting.”

“Courting,” Harry scoffed. “What century do you Malfoys live in?”

“A very civilized one.”

“Are you going to tell me how they reacted?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Now.” Draco paused. “It went about as well as you can imagine.”

“Let me guess,” Harry said gently. “Your mother was shocked, but not terribly angry, just confused. And your father went berserk and started smashing things and left the room screaming.”

Draco snorted. “One out of two.”

“Oh Merlin, which one did I get right?”

“Mother.” Draco laughed softly.

“Good.”

“I knew she would be the easier of the two, of course,” Draco muttered. “Father merely disowned me on the spot and left the room. I didn’t see him again afterward. Well, I suppose he did make it quite easy, all things considered; he could have smashed things and screamed, as you said.”

Harry gently lifted Draco’s face upward so that their eyes met. There was fire in his eyes.

“Is that true?” Harry asked. “He said he disowned you?”

“Washed his hands of me, I believe, was the phrase he used.” Draco was trying desperately to keep his voice upbeat. “Hardly surprising.”

“Draco…” 

“It’s alright, dearest,” Draco said, kissing his cheek. “Mother assured me that he would come around, although I believe I’ve made peace with the fact that that might not happen.”

“That’s terrible,” Harry snarled.

“Honestly, you’re probably going to have a much harder time of things when you tell your family,” Draco continued. “Malfoys don’t really relish talking about our feelings, as you know, so even after a bombshell such as this, there was minimal discussion. But you know your Weasleys are going to want to dissect every single aspect of our relationship in great detail.”

Harry didn’t say anything, but he looked as if he wanted to.

“Harry,” Draco whispered. “Don’t worry. Surely you knew that Lucius Malfoy wasn’t going to be doing cartwheels when he heard that his only son and heir was in love with the Chosen One.”

“Maybe so,” Harry allowed, “but he’s your bloody father. A little support would’ve been nice.”

Draco smiled and shrugged. “Yes, well. To borrow one of your barbaric phrases: it sucks.”

Harry gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, angel. You deserve so much better than that.”

Draco lifted his head up and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Harry repeated, “for telling them. I reckon I knew it would suck for you, but I never really considered exactly what that meant.”

“On the contrary, Harry,” Draco snickered. “You’ve demonstrated multiple times that you know exactly what ‘suck’ means.”

Harry laughed out loud. “Nice.”

“I thought you might like that.”

Harry released a deep sigh. “You’re meant to be in my life, forever. I hope you know that.”

Draco smiled up at him sleepily. 

“I know that, Harry.”

“I love you,” Harry said. 

“I love you, too,” Draco replied, and it somehow still didn’t feel like enough. “I love you, Harry. I’ll always love you.”

Harry kissed the top of his head. 

“Three times…” 

Draco smiled and watched Harry drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you, thank you, thank you (three times makes it official) for reading this story and/or the entire ‘A Few Hours’ series! And once again, all the gratitude in the world to anyone who has left kudos or comments on any of these works. You’re amazing and kind and someone I want to be friends with, so feel free to say hi and I will definitely say hi back! :)
> 
> So yeah, I’m completely serious when I say that I went into this thinking, ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if, like, a hundred people read my story? Maybe someone will even leave a nice comment!’ I was actually fully prepared to be totally eviscerated in the comment section and delete the thing in tears, haha. 
> 
> Needless to say, I am blown away by y’all and just so humbled and appreciative. I am fully aware that this fluff is not moving mountains or anything, but you’ve truly made me feel like my work has some value, and that is such an incredible gift to give someone. All of the kudos back to you, friends. Thank you again, thank you forever, thank you until I die. (And also Drarry until I die, let’s be honest.) 
> 
> Hope to see you soon! :)


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